Point of Contact
by Becca300
Summary: Hermione and Draco meet at different smoking points over the course of several months.


Hermione grumbled as she rooted through her purse. Giving up she continued on her way out of the Ministry and across the way, hoping that someone else was at her destination.

Looking around the point, she spotted one other person and knew she wouldn't be getting a light from him. Pulling her cigarette pack out of her purse's side pocket, she tried one last search through her purse for her lighter or at least a match. As she decided she would have to go down the road to get another light, she heard the click of one near her.

She looked up with her eyebrows raised.

The figure had moved towards her and was holding his lighter up. Hermione pulled a cigarette out of the pack and leaned towards the flame, cupping her hands around the flame to stop the wind from extinguishing it.

Thanking him as she stepped away, he nodded and put his lighter away.

"Didn't take you for a smoker, Granger."

Hermione grimaced. "Well that's what happens when one is tortured with the Cruciatus for long periods of time. We get more reliant on ways to calm our nerves." She held up her cigarette briefly as an example.

He flinched at the mention of her torture.

Hermione smiled without humor at his twitch.

Both figures continued to smoke in silence. As Hermione reached the end of her cigarette, he cleared his throat, dropping his own on the ground and stepping on it before vanishing the stub with a flick of his wand.

Hermione raised her eyebrows again.

"Don't be so paranoid, Granger," he said. "The Ministry has a handy charm that dispels muggles from the spot."

Hermione rolled her eyes. Vanishing it with an identical flick of her wand, she replied, "I know, Malfoy. I was the one who created the charm. It also dispels the smell of smoke down the other end of the alley instead of into the streets."

He raised his eyebrows. "Good to know, Granger. See you around then." He walked back across the road and entered the phone box that would take him down to the Atrium.

Hermione watched him go before stubbing out her own cigarette, deciding to go down the road for a new lighter. She would definitely be taking another smoke break before the end of the day.

She didn't see him for several weeks at the smoking point. She assumed their meeting was a fluke.

One night she had had an incredibly awful nightmare resulting in an awful mood and she snapped at everyone who even remotely crossed her path. Her shakes were back and she couldn't wait any longer for her break. Grabbing her purse, she made her way to the smoking point. Pulling out a cigarette and her lighter as she crossed the road, she lit up just as she entered the bubble.

She felt the soothing nicotine begin to make its way through her lungs. After several drags, she could feel her nerves begin to steady as someone joined her in the bubble. Looking up, she saw him as he lit up his own cigarette.

They smoked in silence and when her first cigarette became a stub, she vanished it before pulling out another and lighting it. She definitely needed more than one today.

"Two, Granger?"

Hermione snorted. "Why, yes, Malfoy. Two. And it's probably going to be three considering last night I relived the time I got tortured in your drawing room. So yes. Two."

With that she was too riled up to finish her cigarette there. Instead she stubbed it before leaving the bubble and stalking back to the Ministry. Grabbing her things from her office, she walked to her boss' office and obtained clearance to take a long weekend to get over the 'flu.'

Deciding to take the Floo, she quickly reached a fireplace and shouted her destination. What she didn't see was Malfoy approaching her with a furious look and while he missed his chance to shout at her, he heard her destination.

"St. Matthew's Rehabilitation Center."

This time the two people didn't see each other for over a month. Though Hermione returned to work after her long weekend, it seemed she only ever came out of her office for a smoke – for which she apparated to some unknown location because neither Malfoy, nor anyone else saw her at the bubble – or to leave work.

Then on one very ordinary Wednesday Hermione suddenly burst into the bubble with an already lit cigarette. Malfoy raised his eyebrows at her, to which she did the same to him before turning to stare at the walls around them.

They both remained resolutely silent for several minutes, until Malfoy dropped his cigarette and lit another one right away. Hermione raised her eyebrows at him as if to say, "Really?"

Draco scowled. He had an awful morning that had included a wife accused of cheating on her husband to which she steadfastly refused with a select choice of words, a client who as soon as he found out Draco would be his attorney refused to meet with him, as well as his mother harping on him about dating a nice pureblood woman, and his father sening him a letter full of incoherent sentences that included several racist remarks regarding muggleborns and other people which he probably picked up from other surrounding his cell.

And he was probably going to get demoted because his boss was a complete wanker who took great pleasure in demeaning him in front of others.

"You could always quit, Malfoy. You could be an excellent lawyer given the chance." She finished her cigarette and left him standing there as his own cigarette slowly burned away.

The time between their next contact was incredibly shorter than the last. This time it was him who walked into the bubble without a light. Quietly asking if she had one, Hermione pulled her lighter from her pocket. A second later he took his first drag.

"How do you know?" he asked.

"How do I know what?" she replied.

"How do you know if I would be a good lawyer?"

She smirked. "First off, I said excellent. Secondly, I've sat in on some of your cases for my boss. You're good, but your boss doesn't give a shit about you. Find someone who does, and that will be your key."

He contemplated her suggestion while exhaling a thing line of smoke into the air. "I wouldn't even know where to look," he admitted.

Hermione dropped her finished cigarette on the ground and smirked before walking out of the bubble.

Two days later, he received an owl with a list of four firms, magical and muggle, that were willing to hire him. The next day he quit his job at the Ministry, much to the pleasure of his boss, and took a job at a muggle firm in central London.

The next time he saw her it was outside a pub that was down the road from his firm just a month after he started there. Furrowing his brows he sidled up next to her sans cigarette.

She raised her eyebrows and took a drag from her own cigarette.

"Smoking's bad for you, you know, Granger." 

Hermione snorted without amusement. "And the pot speaks to the kettle."

"That isn't the saying."

"And you would know that how?"

"I work at a muggle law firm now. It pays to know clichés like that."

Hermione's eyebrows rose higher. "A muggle firm, you say. And how did you manage to get a job there?" 

"You know, I really don't know, Granger. A mysterious owl arrived one day with a list of firms that wanted me. It was all very spooky." 

"Spooky, indeed. And why would you trust such a mysterious list?"

"Maybe because two days before I received said list I was discussing the topic of finding a new firm with a bushy-haired know-it-all. You wouldn't happen to know someone like that…would you?"

"Wow…really pulling out the insults, aren't we Malfoy."

"Quite the contrary, really. I think I say it with a touch of affection now. You should be grateful." 

Hermione snorted again before dropping her cigarette on the ground. "I'm sure I'm flatter that you have deigned to grace me with your presence."

"Ah…" he answered with a glint of amusement in his eyes. "Well, anyhow, back to the pot and kettle. If you must know, Granger, I don't smoke anymore. Company rules," he pulled up his right sleeve revealing a tan patch on his pale arm before covering it up again. "Boss told me that they don't give smoke breaks, I agreed to quit. And that is that."

"Hmm…interesting. And it was easy to quit?"

"Ha. Hell no, it's awful. The cravings are the worst." 

Hermione nodded her head in agreement. A silence settled over the two figures, neither of whom were smoking now.

Draco jerked his head towards the pub. "You here with someone?"

Hermione nodded again. "Some muggle friends from home," she paused. "They don't understand, you know. All they know is that I went to some private boarding school in Scotland when I was eleven. They see a change in me, from a bushy haired know-it-all, but I can't explain why. I can't say anything about why I suddenly started smoking or can't go out with them 'like normal.' It's all who hooks up with who while all I can think about is how on earth am I going to get through today. I can't take it. It's why I'm out here instead of inside."

Draco nodded in understanding. Meanwhile, Hermione noticed neither of them were actually smoking anymore and suddenly felt awkward.

"Well I guess I should head inside," Hermione decided to say.

Draco nodded again. "Thanks Granger."

Without a sound she walked back into the pub.

Hermione was on the balcony of the venue that the Fifth Annual Anniversary of the defeat of Voldemort. In her hand was the third to last cigarette in her remaining pack. Taking a long drag she reveled in the feeling that the nicotine left in her lungs.

"Still smoking, eh Granger?"

She blew her smoke out.

Hermione didn't turn around. It had been many months since she had last seen his face and she had found that his absence left a very strange feeling behind.

As he rested his forearms on the banister next to her, she took another drag. "On my last pack, actually. I've decided to quit."

He raised his eyebrows. "Really?"

It was several moments before she answered. "My therapist thinks it would be a good choice. You know, lung cancer and all."

He snorted. "Yeah?" What is she daft? Magical beings don't get cancer."

"Not daft, just muggleborn. Besides I'm supposed to be 'confronting my demons,'" she paused. How's the new job?"

"Good. I'm really learning a lot."

Hermione nodded in satisfaction. "Good…I'm glad."

They stood in silence as she finished her cigarette and pulled out her second to last and lit up.

"How's your job?" he finally asked.

Hermione snorted. "Awful. I'm quitting."

He raised his eyebrows. "That bad?"

She turned towards him and blew a puff of smoke to the side. "Worse than you know. I'm being used," she started, her ire rising. "As a bloody figurehead for the department. All I ever fucking do is paperwork.

"I'm quite ready for a change," she finished quieter.

"Well I could've told you that months ago."

"I knew when I started what they wanted me to be. I tried very hard to do more, but it seems they don't give a shit." She turned back to look at the landscape while inhaling more nicotine.

"Where are you going to go now?"

Releasing the smoke she replied, "I might travel. I got offered a job at Hogwarts—Transfiguration—and Flourish and Blotts is up for sale, so I don't know yet."

Watching her tap the ash off her half finished cigarette, he seemed to be pondering her choices.

"I think you would excel at either positions, but if you want a challenge, teaching definitely is one," he finally said.

Hermione glanced at him, looking thoughtful. Holding up her cigarette and then taking a drag, she asked, "How's the quitting going?" while breathing out the smoke.

He snorted. "All quit and everything. Though sometimes I feel drawn to smoke just so I can breathe it in."

"Much like now?"

He looked over at her. "No," he said. "I'm here for the company." 

She smiled before taking one last drag and stubbing it out. Pulling out her pack once more, she pulled out the last cigarette and stared at it.

"One last one?"

She shook her head. "I think I'll keep this one, just as a reminder."

"A reminder of what?" he questioned.

She looked at him with a secretive glint and replaced the cigarette in the pack and tucked it into her clutch.

The music from the ballroom filtered into their silence on the balcony.

He reached out a hand. "Dance with me, Granger."

Her eyes lit up briefly and she accepted. He pulled her close and they waltzed around the balcony.

As the song finished, he bowed and kissed her knuckles. Looking up at her eyes, he asked, "Are you free on Tuesday night?" He stood up.

She looked up at him. "Yes," she breathed, slightly out of breath from dancing.

"How about I pick you up at seven for dinner?"

She nodded. "Sounds lovely. I'll owl you my address."

He nodded once. "See you then, Granger." Bowing again, he left her alone once again.

She turned towards the sky and spread her arms out, smiling, and took a deep breath.

Letting her arms drop to her sides, she turned and walked back to the ballroom, bid her goodbyes, and left the celebrations.

They never met again at a smoking point.

They did, however, meet at many other places over the years and would eventually rest side by side in one last place.

FIN


End file.
